


Degrees of Separation

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Mix Tape [7]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: A long short that will clarify "Small Things" to some extent.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Degrees of Separation

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A long short that will clarify "Small Things" to some extent.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Sitting in the darkened theater, Yuri leaned over to nudge Flynn’s arm and murmur: “That guy’s doomed.”

“Shhh. I haven’t seen this.”

“Neither have I. Look, he just set himself up as a mentor figure. He won’t survive the movie.” He caught the incredulous look Flynn threw him and grinned. “Crash and I took a film studies class together, once.”

“Save it for later.” 

He caught Yuri stealing another handful of popcorn and yanked the tub away. At least he hadn’t tried to take a sip of Flynn’s soda. Things between them had gotten better, but they weren’t that close by far.

Something in Yuri had eased up since the day Flynn had tried to punch him when an argument over household chores had gotten out of hand. The atmosphere in the house was much more relaxed, Yuri’s moods had considerably improved, and things were going surprisingly well.

Things were going so well, in fact, that Flynn would have been suspicious were it not for the growing attraction he felt for Yuri. That hadn’t abated, much to his dismay. Rather, it seemed to be getting worse as they spent more and more time together and he got to know Yuri better. What had started out as something inexplicable and probably in large part superficial—Yuri _was_ easy on the eyes, to put it lightly—had developed into something deeper, something sharper. Flynn had it bad, and he knew it by the way an accidental touch could so easily claim his focus, or how the sight of Yuri and Crash so casual with each other tied knots in his stomach and made him wish bitterly that things had been different. Still, at least they were finally making progress, strange as it was.

It hadn’t made any sense at the time why—after months of a strange sort of cold war between them that shifted from Flynn learning to rein in his temper and then Yuri trying to put distance between them—a few minutes of trying to beat the hell out of each other would start to patch things up. It bothered him enough that he had finally asked Yuri about it, and the answer he got only made things worse. How a fight like that could have made things ‘less complicated’ was entirely beyond him, but Yuri was clearly far more at ease around him. They’d even formed a tentative friendship over the past month. They shared meals, ran errands together, and every few days Yuri would bait Flynn into a fight that felt more like a sparring match. 

He supposed that fighting was just another way that Yuri let off steam, and when he thought about it that way, there was a strange sort of logic to what had happened. It _was_ a relief to realize that even if he lost his temper—which was a given when dealing with Yuri—and even if they fought, he wouldn’t lose his place in the house they shared. He’d seen Yuri hold grudges over a whole host of little things, but never over one of their fights, and Flynn was a little surprised to find that he didn’t, either. Some days, that made him feel like he was just that little bit closer to understanding Yuri. Other days, it served as a not entirely welcome reminder that his life had changed and he had changed with it. 

When Flynn had first moved in, Yuri’s propensity for fighting had been a nuisance, almost an insult in the way he had seemed to find it so easy to push exactly the right buttons to get a response. Now, Flynn found that he was almost grateful for it. Against someone like Yuri, who was willing and eager to take him on, the fights were actually a decent way to relieve stress. They didn’t solve anything, of course, but they made it easier to get frustrations out of the way before actually working out issues.

As it turned out, Yuri was a quick learner. Unlike Flynn, he’d never had any formal martial arts training, but he picked up various moves like they were second nature, and he only got harder to beat every time. He took his lumps and his losses in stride whether there had been an actual disagreement behind the fight or not. 

Most of what he had been taught came from Niren but, on the whole, Yuri was unforthcoming when it came to the old soldier—or anything about his past, really. Although, every now and again when they were cooling off after a match, he would open up just a little bit and talk about his memories of Niren or his early days on the metal scene or even just something that had happened on campus. He would always ask about Flynn’s life immediately afterward, as if trying to divert attention from himself. Anything about his life before he met Niren was not up for discussion, but Flynn listened to the things he said and what he didn’t say and made some guesses, fitting pieces into place in the puzzle that was Yuri Lowell.

The movie played on, thankfully free from further commentary. It wasn’t until it was more than halfway through that Flynn became aware of the warmth of Yuri’s hand against the back of his own on their shared armrest. He glanced over to see that Yuri had dozed off, slumped in his chair. He’d had a busy week between work, school, and his band and, although he’d agreed to the late showing readily enough, Flynn wasn’t all that surprised. He turned back to the screen and tried to concentrate on the movie rather than the tiny bit of warmth between them, connection and temptation. He curled his fingers into a fist and kept his hand to himself.

When it was time to go, he nudged Yuri’s shoulder to wake him and joked about him working too hard as they left the theater. Yuri just grinned and went along with it. He grabbed Flynn’s popcorn when they got into the car and emptied the rest of his M&Ms over it, munching happily during the ride home. They listened to a CD of classical music revamped and performed with electric instruments and neither the brief periods of conversation nor the quiet lulls between were nearly as uncomfortable as they used to be. 

Repede came to greet them when they got home, and Yuri took him out to the backyard as Flynn went to wash his face and brush his teeth. When they hadn’t come back in by the time he was done, he went to see what was taking them.

Their neighborhood was full of tall trees rising high above the houses and creating a dark, tattered border around the splash of sky above. Yuri stood in the middle of the yard, still as a statue, staring up into the heavens and Flynn joined him there, gazing up at the few stars that shone through the light pollution of the city. He recognized a couple of the more well-known constellations, but Yuri had pointed out several others to him. It seemed Niren had been the camping type, and had taken Yuri with him on several trips far away from the cities where the only lights were what shone from the sky and the patterns in the stars became all the more apparent.

Flynn glanced briefly at Yuri and took a small chance.

“We should go camping some time.”

Yuri’s laugh was short and soft. It brought with it the familiar sting of rejection until he spoke.

“You sure you could handle a couple days away from modern conveniences, city boy?” His smile was crooked and free of malice, and Flynn relaxed enough to smirk back at him before turning his face up to the stars.

“You’re as much a city boy as I am.”

Again, Yuri laughed, but there was nothing in the sound to make Flynn flinch away. “Might be fun. We could take Repede along, too. Sound good, pal?” He knelt to pet the dog that had trotted up to join them.

They stayed outside for a few more minutes, that tiny victory shining like the brightest of stars. Then, with a yawn, Yuri stood and stretched, heading for the door, Repede at his side. Flynn followed along behind, certain that things were finally moving in the right direction.

\--------------------

The next morning, Flynn allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in. It was a Saturday, which meant he didn’t have much that he needed to get done aside from a few chores and a couple loads of laundry. He lay in bed, wondering if he ought to give Estelle a call after he was done, or if Yuri might want to take Repede for a walk with him before he had to leave for work that evening. 

Sunlight came streaming in through the blinds, warming the room. He stretched, pushing the covers back, comfortable enough in just an old pair of sweats. Everything felt peaceful and full of promise, and he sighed happily, thinking he’d give it just a few more minutes before getting up and starting the day.

His hand had come to rest in a shaft of sunlight, and the warmth on his skin reminded him of the previous night. Curling his fingers loosely around the bed sheet, a half smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Yuri was so strange. It hadn’t been all that long ago that he could barely stand being alone with Flynn. Last night they’d grabbed a late dinner together and gone to a later movie. It hadn’t been a date, of course—Yuri wasn’t interested—but it was hard not to draw parallels, and harder still to forget that these changes had only come after they’d begun fighting again. He’d been working so hard to keep his temper in check, but, when it had finally broken loose, Yuri had actually accepted, even welcomed it. He enjoyed their bouts, entered into them with a playful intensity more often than not that turned them from violent confrontations into a challenge that Flynn had actually begun looking forward to. Fighting with Yuri…was fun.

“ _Flynn_! Where the hell is my tie?”

Sometimes. With a sigh, Flynn got up and went to the door, leaning out into the hall.

“It’s hanging up with your shirt.”

“Where? I don’t see—oh. Wha’d you hide it…for.” He’d come out of the laundry room and stood staring from down the hall. “Nice bed head,” he said after a moment. The annoyance was gone from his voice.

Shaking his head, Flynn ducked back into his room and shut the door. If Yuri was going to start being weird, he was at least going to get dressed before trying to deal with him. He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, wanting something he could move in should Yuri be inclined toward starting a fight. The bed head comment had him running a comb through his hair, though his pride made him ruffle it back into spiky disorder…just to prove that he didn’t care what Yuri thought about how he looked.

He needn’t have worried. By the time he came out, Yuri was eating at the dining room table, far more interested in his cereal than anything else. As he sat down to fix himself a bowl, the doorbell rang. Neither of them moved for several long seconds. It rang again as Flynn looked up at Yuri.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Why should I get it?”

“It’s probably one of your friends.”

“No one I know gets up this early on a Saturday.” He took a bite, considering, and added: “Except Estelle.”

“It can’t be one of mine. None of them know this address.” He smiled a little. “Except for Estelle.”

A wide grin spread across Yuri’s face. “What? You ashamed of me?”

“No. I’ll go see who it is.” Standing up to forestall any further discussion, he called out over the third ring: “Coming!”

The living room was, as always, a practically unusable mess. That was the biggest reason he didn’t have friends over. It was embarrassing, and blaming it all on his roommate, truth or no, was a pretty weak excuse. Shaking his head at the mess, he opened the door.

Flynn didn’t gasp, but that was probably due more to the fact that he suddenly couldn’t breathe than to any lack of shock upon seeing exactly who had come to visit. His mother stood on the porch, a petite woman in an impeccable three piece suit staring up at him disapprovingly. Flynn didn’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think about moving. Dread weighed him down and ground his thoughts to a halt. He hadn’t seen her since their fight. She looked exactly the same—of course she would, it hadn’t been that long ago, even if it felt like a lifetime. He remembered the sound of her voice, screaming at him to 

_Get out! Get out, and don’t you come back! You aren’t welcome in this house until you straighten yourself out!_

She’d broken down into harsh, wracking sobs, asking him over and over

_How could you do this? How could you do this to me?_

“Flynn.” Her voice hit him like a slap and he flinched. Her hands had been settled on her hips, but she crossed her arms now as she stared him down. “Are you going to step aside and let me in?”

Automatically, he started to move out of her way. Just then, however, Yuri came in from the dining room. He stood just behind Flynn and a little to the side, further blocking her path. He was close enough that Flynn could feel his warmth, and it helped him begin to thaw. 

For a moment, Yuri looked down his nose at the woman a head shorter than both of them who had Flynn so thoroughly stunned. Then, he cracked a smile.

“Sorry, I’ve already got an Avon rep.” 

He took a quick step forward and reached to shut the door in her face. He wasn’t quite fast enough. She pushed past him into the house and set her feet, making it clear that she wasn’t going to be leaving without a fight. Though Flynn had inherited most of his traits from his father, his stubbornness was one thing he had definitely gotten from her.

Yuri should have recognized the look in her eyes, but he wasn’t one to back down. “Hey, I don’t remember saying you could—”

“I’m not here to speak with _you_.” She didn’t even look at Yuri. Flynn was beginning to feel like a mouse that had locked gazes with a cobra.

“I don’t really care who you want to talk to. I’m the only one here with his name on the lease, which means I’m the one who gets to decide who’s trespassing. Your choices are: you can leave, I can help you leave, or I can call the cops and let them deal with you.”

“Flynn, I would like a word with you in private.” She made no move to go elsewhere, making her meaning clear.

Most of the initial shock had faded and his thoughts were coming together again. He could handle talking to his mother. Besides, he’d learned a great deal about holding his temper over the past several months. And the fact that she’d even come at all must mean that she was willing to talk to him. They could have a civil discussion. Probably.

Laying a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, he felt the familiar ready tension before a fight and it was almost enough to make him smile. They had their differences and Yuri didn’t feel the same way about him, but he had still stepped in to take Flynn’s side without hesitation. Somehow, it wasn’t all that surprising.

“It’s okay.”

Yuri glanced back at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be all right.”

“If you say so.” Just like that, he backed down. Before he left, however, he moved in close enough that Flynn could feel his breath against his ear as he spoke. “Go get her, Tiger.”

The words had been meant for his mother, a goad to her temper. The slap on Flynn’s ass as he retreated to his room was the same. It was the first time she looked directly at Yuri, tracking his movements with an expression so full of disgust and disdain that Flynn finally felt a warm rush of anger flow into him. It woke him up and sharpened his focus, but he tried to set it aside in favor of the faint hope he’d been holding on to that they might one day be able to forgive each other.

They studied each other, and Flynn felt like he was sizing up an opponent before a fight. He needed something to say.

“How did you find me?”

“Coincidence. I was at my hairdresser’s the other day, and I heard some little hooligan talking about that extremely rude young man you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with. He’s no good, Flynn. Anyone who associates with a man who dyes his hair pink isn’t worth giving the time of day. It’s outrageous. I suppose he never bothered to tell you that I called.”

“Actually, he did let me know.” His voice was tight as he fought to keep from snapping. She’d always been like that, always deciding on her version of events before knowing the truth.

“When you miss a call, the courteous thing to do is call back. What sort of person lets his nosy roommate answer his phone, then acts as if he never received a call in the first place? I raised you better than that.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Too preoccupied to even send me a ticket and a reminder about your last concert?”

“The date for that had been set _months_ before—” he paused and took a breath to calm down. “—before I left. All you had to do was show up.”

She sniffed. “Oh, certainly. And have all the other mothers gossiping behind my back, I’m sure.”

“I haven’t been discussing our situation.”

“I should hope not! I didn’t raise you to air your dirty laundry.”

Flynn sighed. They weren’t getting anywhere. “Why are you here?”

“I want you to come home.”

The answer left him gaping, at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected…. He’d hoped, but never thought she would actually….

“You want—”

“There’s no reason for you to live like this.” 

The spark of hope guttered. He had a sinking feeling he knew what she was getting at.

“Live like _what_?”

She ignored the tension in his voice. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t think I do. I’m doing very well for myself, all things considered. I found a job, a nice house—”

“Really, Flynn, there’s a hole in the wall. And is that a bruise on your arm?”

He looked despite himself and, sure enough, there was a sickly yellowish splotch just barely peeking out from beneath his sleeve. He had to fight back the urge to cover it with his hand. The damage had already been done, anyway. 

“It was that degenerate roommate of yours, wasn’t it? His type are all like that, Flynn. You can’t trust them. They aren’t right.”

“And just what type would that be? Musicians? College students?”

“Don’t you be smart with me, Flynn Scifo! _His_ type.” 

There would be no getting through to her. He sighed and tried to change the subject. “Did the family put you up to this?”

“No one ‘put me up to this.’ I’m here trying to save my son from a lifetime of misery. Come back, Flynn. We’ll get you some help. There are specialists for this sort of thing—”

“It’s _not_ a disease!”

“It’s unnatural. Speaking of which, you haven’t… _been with_ …that young man you’re living with, have you? I feel like I could catch something simply by being here.” Flynn started to interrupt, to protest, but she talked right over him. She didn’t care. “He hasn’t offered you drugs, has he? We’ll have to get you tested for that, too, when—”

“Are you _listening_ to yourself?” He threw his hands up, fingers curling into claws in the air. He wanted to lash out, but he had no target, nothing he could vent his anger on. All that stood before him was his mother, arms crossed over her chest in unwavering disapproval. “You don’t even _know_ him! Yuri doesn’t do drugs. He doesn’t sleep around. He works to support himself, and he’s going to college. He’s no different from me!”

“Now, that simply isn’t true. You’ve got so much more going for you, Flynn. You have a future ahead of you. You could make something of yourself if only you’d stop all this nonsense and come back home.” 

She actually reached out for him, but he jerked back before her fingertips so much as brushed his arm. Realization trickled coldly through his anger, and he had a moment of calming clarity that gave him the space he needed to take a breath. He took a good look at the woman standing before him, a small-minded person so convinced that her own limited worldview was the only correct one that she didn’t care about anything except preserving it. There was nothing in her to remind him of the mother who had raised him. She’d died the day his father had, and only this cold replica was left.

“That isn’t my home anymore,” he said quietly. “It hasn’t been since you kicked me out.”

“I had no choice! You—”

“I’m not finished. _This_ is my home. I chose it, and I belong here more than I ever will with you. I’m not going to stand here and listen to you insult me and my friends. I want you to leave.”

She had the utter gall to look shocked at that. “I am your _mother_ —!”

“For whatever that’s worth.” He turned away. “Go. Or I’ll let Yuri call the police.”

Of course, Yuri had been listening in from just inside his room. He took Flynn’s place, slipping past him with phone in hand and a grin on his face as Flynn stepped into the hallway. He’d meant to go straight to his room. He trusted Yuri to chase her off without actually calling law enforcement or resorting to violence. Something stopped him though, and he stopped, sagging against the wall and feeling suddenly exhausted. His mother called out to him from the living room.

“Flynn! Flynn, honey, I want you to come home. This isn’t the life for a nice boy like you.”

“Sorry, Mrs. S, but it looks like it’s time for you to go.”

“Don’t you ‘shoo’ me, you filthy pervert! It’s your fault I had to come out here in the first place. You put that bruise on his arm, didn’t you?”

“Wanna see the ones he gave me?”

“I’ll have you arrested! I will call the police and have you locked up for assault!”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t do it here.”

“Flynn, you get back in here _this instant_ before I’m forced to raise my hand to this…this _man_!”

“Jeez, and I thought your son was a pain in the ass. Hey, Flynn! I take back all that shit I said about you! Except for when I said you suck cock, because _damn_ —!”

There was the dull smack of flesh hitting flesh and Flynn whipped around the corner back into the living room, horrified to think about what Yuri might do if his mother had actually slapped him. Thankfully, the situation wasn’t quite that bad. Though it was clear she had tried, Yuri had been quicker. He’d caught her arm and now held her in a grip that Flynn knew from experience she wouldn’t be able to break. When he spoke, his tone was light, almost friendly.

“See, now you’ve gone and attacked me in my own home. I have every right to defend myself but, since Flynn would probably just bitch at me later if I did, I’m willing to let this go in exchange for you kindly getting the hell out.” 

“You can’t threaten me!”

“Usually, I prefer resorting to violence. You should be grateful that you’re a special case.”

He didn’t sound so friendly anymore, and when Flynn saw his mother shiver as she tried to stare him down, he was suddenly grateful that he couldn’t see Yuri’s face. Most of her aggression drained away, and Yuri let her go, though he followed her to the door like a bouncer. He leaned out, watching her go. Just before he came back in and slammed the door shut, he shouted after her: “See you at the next family reunion!”

Flynn wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss him or kill him. He started to go back to his room, paused just outside the door, then headed into the kitchen where he paced the linoleum as his thoughts fell together in a jumble. 

That could have gone worse. It could have been worse, right? She’d come to see him of her own volition. That had to count for something, even if she was still convinced that there was something fundamentally wrong with him. He’d stood up to her. That was definitely worth something. It put them on an even footing. They would need that in order to work things out.

She’d abandoned him. She’d turned on him in an instant and kicked him out of the house.

But she had come looking for him. She’d said she wanted him to come back.

Not him. She didn’t want _Flynn_ ; she wanted her idea of what he should be. She wanted a son who wouldn’t make her ‘the mother of that gay violinist.’

There had to be some hope, though. She wouldn’t have bothered coming merely over her reputation. They weren’t well known enough in the community for that. She had to feel some remorse for what she’d done. She _had_ to. She was his mother. She was supposed to love him unconditionally.

No such thing as unconditional love.

She’d just been angry, that was all. Flynn had been angry, too, but it had taken almost two months of butting heads with Yuri for him to realize just how upset he was. He’d been trying to hide from it, trying not to think about it, but it was too big to ignore. Maybe it was the same for her. Maybe she just didn’t know how to cope with the way she had treated her son. Maybe…maybe if he could forgive her for her rejection, maybe then she would….

Yeah, right. She would never be able to accept who he was. She probably wouldn’t ever even come back. He’d had one chance where she might have listened, where they might have been able to talk and find some compromise, but he’d gone and sent her away and allowed Yuri to chase her off and say all those misleading things. If Flynn hadn’t been beyond hope in her eyes before, he certainly was now.

Yuri was leaning against the counter, watching from the dining room side, his chin propped in his elbows, and Flynn halted in his steps to meet his eyes. 

“Why did you say all that to her?”

“All what?”

“You know exactly what!” Echoes of his mother were clear enough in his own words to make him wince, but he pressed on regardless, unable to stop himself. “All you had to do was make sure she left, and you couldn’t even manage that without picking a fight!”

“Hate to break it to you, but she wasn’t going to leave without a decent bluff.”

“Don’t give me that! You could have gotten rid of her a hundred different ways. And you didn’t have to antagonize her after she was out of the house!”

“What’s it matter? She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“That’s not the point! There was no reason for you to tell her that I—!” He stumbled over the words. To have said something so crude right to his mother’s face…!

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed. Not like she doesn’t know you’re gay.” He smirked, leaning just a little bit further over the counter. “Or do you just suck at it?”

Flynn gaped, briefly at a loss for words over the fact that Yuri was actually making jokes. Couldn’t he take _anything_ seriously?

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

“Hey, I could have just let her come after you. I didn’t have to get involved in your family issues.”

“But you did. You just put yourself right in the middle of everything, never mind that it wasn’t any of your business!” He slammed his hands down on the counter, getting right in Yuri’s face. It didn’t make him back down, didn’t even make him flinch.

“Get rid of her on your own next time, then!”

“I didn’t ask you to do it _this_ time!”

The look in Yuri’s eyes was sharp and steady and reminded Flynn that he could be strangely in tune about certain things. Earlier, he’d brushed past Yuri in his rush to get out of the living room. He’d bumped his shoulder, tagged him in, and trusted him to have his back and put a quick end to the unexpected visit. Yuri had understood that, at least in part, and he’d done it. He just hadn’t done it with any sort of tact or common decency.

Shaking his head, Flynn turned away. More fool him, for expecting that Yuri could do anything without complicating the situation.

“Where are you going?”

“What’s it to you? I need to get out of here for a while.”

“What you need is a good ass kicking.” He cracked his knuckles and stepped forward as Flynn rolled his eyes.

“I’m not fighting you over this. It’s not one of your stupid games, Yuri. You were in the wrong.”

He walked off. He only needed to get his keys and his wallet out of his room, and then he was gone, out the door and half expecting Yuri to give him the same sort of send off he’d given his mother. She couldn’t have driven far, and the thought of accidentally crossing her path was almost enough to make him reconsider. It was a ridiculous thing to fear, though, and he _had_ to get away and just…just take some time to get his thoughts back in order. He’d been holding onto a vague, foolish hope all this time, but his mother’s visit had put an end to that. There would be no going back to the life he’d lived before.

\-------------------

By the time Flynn got home that afternoon, Yuri was gone. It was just as well, really, since he still wasn’t sure what to say to him. Even so, as evening fell, he kept an eye on the time as he wandered restlessly around the house, straightening up and trying to come to terms with the fact that it really was his home, now. Eventually, it became obvious that Yuri wasn’t going to be coming back after his shift. Flynn went to bed, too tired to be angry and feeling like he’d burned bridges with two people that day.

\-------------------

Yuri came in the next morning just as Flynn was sitting down at the dining room table with a cup of coffee and some equally black toast. Wordlessly, he tossed aside his helmet and shed his jacket as he passed through the living room. His hair was a mess from the ride back, flyaway strands pulled free of the loose braid that barely held it back. He headed straight to his room to change out of yesterday’s clothes and Flynn caught up with him when he went to feed Repede.

“About yesterday—”

Sighing, Yuri set the food bag aside and turned around. “Hit me for it, if you want.”

It wasn’t an apology by a long shot, but Flynn thought he could see something contrite in his posture beneath the crossed arms and steady gaze. He’d given things plenty of thought last night and, although he knew there were better ways to have handled the situation, it was as much his own fault for expecting Yuri not to fight dirty against an opponent that he couldn’t approach head on. Besides, it was sort of nice to know how readily Yuri would defend him. He had planned on apologizing for having lashed out, but if Yuri was ready to forgive and forget without trading actual apologies….

Having been expecting a punch, Yuri must have been shocked when Flynn impulsively stepped in and kissed him.

The moment stretched out longer than he’d expected. He felt Yuri’s arms tense beneath his hands. He smelled like cigarettes. Flynn had enough time to start to feel a little giddy, to begin to wonder if Yuri would kiss him back once his brain caught up with events. The moment was shattered with the impact of a fist slamming into his side, and he winced as he was shoved roughly backward.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Yuri ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in his braid in his distraction, but Flynn was watching his lips, watching that enticing flash of silver as he licked them.

“That…was…a lot of things, I think.” Apology, show of gratitude, revenge—Yuri could make of it what he would. Flynn had kissed him because he wanted to, because he wanted Yuri, because he’d appreciated the solidarity, because he’d known it would get on his nerves. And Yuri did seem discomfited, but there was something strange about it. He looked….

“I didn’t think you’d let it last so long.”

“Shut up. You surprised me.” He didn’t make eye contact until he heard Flynn laugh. “What? It took me off guard!” He was definitely blushing.

“Do you have some time later today?”

The non sequitur had him looking suspicious. “Why?”

“You still haven’t figured out how to counter that hold I got you in the other day, right? I’ll show you.”

Back on familiar ground, Yuri grinned his widest and the sight eased a knot of tension that had been sitting like a weight in Flynn’s stomach. “Bring it on.”


End file.
